Maria.

"Noah, are you okay?" I asked suddenly, the tension in the room becoming too heavy for me to ignore. I stepped closer and lifted my hand, placing it gently against his forehead as if checking for a fever. "Did you hit your head? You seem... agitated."

The words left my mouth half-teasing, half-concerned, but my chest felt tight as I searched his face for answers.

He didn’t lean into my touch, he didn’t pull away either. For a moment, he just stood there.

"No, I am fine, Maria," he said quietly. "I just need some rest. I will take my leave."

He still wasn’t looking at me.

Instead, he plastered on a smile, one so painfully obvious that it made my stomach twist. It didn’t reach his eyes. It didn’t soften his features. It sat there like a mask, thin and fragile.

I nodded slowly.

"Okay..." I whispered.

But the ache in my chest refused to ease.

It spread instead, slow and uncomfortable, as if something important was slipping through my fingers.

"Noah..." I called out before I even realized I was speaking.

He had already reached the door. His hand wrapped around the handle.

"I mean... your lips," I added quickly. "I haven’t finished applying the ointment."

He paused, but only slightly.

"It’s fine, Maria. I’ll do it myself."

Something in the way he said it unsettled me, It wasn’t harsh, it wasn’t angry, It was distant.

And that distance hurt more than any raised voice could have.

I stepped forward instinctively, closing the space between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from his back. The air between us felt charged, yet painfully fragile.

I could feel his breath on my skin when he shifted slightly, but he didn’t turn around, his grip on the door handle tightened.

The subtle movement didn’t escape me. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

It was as if he was holding onto it, not just physically, but emotionally. Like it was anchoring him.

I reached out without thinking and gently wrapped my fingers around his hand. His skin was warm and tense.

I slowly slid my hand over his, caressing it softly, trying to soothe whatever storm was brewing beneath his calm exterior.

"Noah," I said quietly.

He still didn’t look at me.

My heart thudded heavily in my chest.

"Did I do something wrong?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Vulnerable and unfiltered. I hadn’t meant to sound so unsure, but I was.

He finally lifted his eyes.

Slowly.

And when they met mine, I felt the weight of everything he wasn’t saying.

He searched my face as if trying to find something hidden there.

Guilt.

Confession.

Reassurance.

Anything.

"No, Maria," he said after a moment.

His voice was steady, too steady.

"I’m tired."

That was all.

Just tired.

"Take care of yourself," he added softly.

The gentleness in his voice hurt more than anger ever could.

If he had snapped at me, if there had been sharpness or bitterness woven into his tone, I might have found something to defend against. Anger gives you edges. It gives you something to push back on. But this,this quiet, careful softness, slipped straight past every defense I had.

Those four words didn’t sound casual. They didn’t sound like something you say when you expect to see someone tomorrow. They didn’t carry the lightness of see you later or the comfort of call me when you get home.

They carried weight.

A slow, pressing heaviness that settled against my chest and refused to move.

Final.

The kind of final you don’t announce out loud. The kind that hides inside ordinary words and pretends to be harmless.

Before I could gather my thoughts, before I could say his name again, or tighten my hold around his hand, or even ask him to stay just a little longer, he gently but firmly pulled his hand out of mine.

The movement wasn’t harsh, It wasn’t aggressive, there was no irritation in it. It was controlled, measured and deliberate.

As though he had thought about this moment beforehand. As though he had prepared himself to let go.

And that made it worse.

The sudden absence of his warmth startled me more than I expected. My fingers remained suspended in the air for a split second, still curved in the shape of holding him. They twitched slightly, curling inward as if trying to grasp something that had already slipped away.

Empty.

They felt empty.

The space between us widened instantly, not just physically, but in a way that felt deeper than distance. It was as if something invisible had shifted, placing him somewhere I couldn’t quite reach anymore.

He didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t falter.

There was no visible struggle in his expression, no flicker of doubt in the way he moved. He simply reached for the door and opened it in one swift, fluid motion.

For a brief, fragile second, hope flared inside me.

Maybe he would pause.

Maybe he would turn.

Just once.

Just enough to tell me that this wasn’t what it felt like. Just enough to soften the edge of it.

But he didn’t.

He stepped out without turning his head.

Without meeting my eyes again.

Without giving me anything, no smile, no hesitation, no lingering glance, to hold onto.

The door closed quietly behind him, no dramatic slam, no sharp crack of sound to match the ache spreading through my chest.

Just a soft click.

And then...Silence, thick, unforgiving. It filled the room almost immediately, pressing in from every corner. I stood there unmoving, staring at the exact spot where he had been standing moments ago, as if I could rewind time simply by refusing to look away.

The room felt different.

Colder.

As though his presence had been the only thing anchoring it, warming it, making it feel alive.

My breathing turned uneven. I swallowed hard, trying to ease the tightness forming in my throat, but it only seemed to deepen. Each inhale felt shallow, each exhale heavier than the last.

Why did it hurt like this?

We hadn’t argued.

We hadn’t shattered anything with cruel words.

Nothing had broken loudly.

And yet it felt like something delicate, something important, had slipped straight through my fingers without warning.

I pressed my hand lightly against my chest, as though I could physically soothe the ache building there. As though I could steady whatever fragile thing inside me had just cracked.

Why did it feel like I had just lost something?

I heaved a deep sigh and slowly, I turned and walked back toward the bed. My body felt heavier than before, as though something inside me had deflated. I lay down without bothering to change, staring up at the ceiling.

Noah’s voice replayed in my mind.

Must you accompany him?

The question rang over and over again, each repetition digging deeper.

It hadn’t been loud.

It hadn’t been accusatory.

But it had carried something raw.

Something wounded.

I rolled onto my side, curling slightly into myself.

Was that what this was about?

Adrien?

Jealousy?

Possession?

Or something more?

My eyelids grew heavier, exhaustion finally claiming me. The emotional storm had drained me completely. At some point, my thoughts blurred into dreams, and I dozed off without realizing.

****

Days passed like a breeze.

Too fast.

Too quiet.

I avoided the Quadruplets as much as possible. The corridors they frequented became routes I carefully sidestepped. I timed my movements to ensure I didn’t cross paths with them.

And of course....their precious Vanessa.

The thought of her tightened something inside me. I didn’t want to deal with her smug smiles or calculated glances. Not now.

Not when everything already felt fragile.

Noah avoided me too, that hurt more than I expected. We hadn’t argued, he hadn’t raised his voice.....but since that day in my room, he kept his distance.

And it affected me greatly.

I didn’t want to lose him.

He is my friend.

Not when he meant so much to me.

I tried going to his room more than once, telling myself I would just knock, just talk, just clear the air.

But every time....Anabel was there.

Her laughter spilled into the hallway, bright and carefree. And Noah’s voice joined hers, warm, light, easy. His smile when he was with her was so bright, so effortless.

It was nothing like the strained expression he wore the last time he looked at me.

The contrast hurt.

I would stand there for a second too long, listening, before quietly turning away.

Daniel became my only steady company these past few days. He didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t push.

He simply stayed.

Vincent, thankfully, was healing faster than expected. The tension around him eased as his strength returned, and that at least gave me one less thing to worry about.

Still.....Something felt missing.

I was standing at the sink one afternoon, washing dishes absentmindedly, when voices drifted in from the open window.

"I heard the games in the competition are tough!" one omega said excitedly.

"Exactly! I don’t even know who I’m rooting for. All the competing Alphas are so hot. I wish I was the prize," another replied with a giggle.

Their laughter followed.

They kept talking about strength, strategy, appearances. About who looked most dominant, most desirable, most likely to win but I had already zoned out.

The water continued running over my hands as my thoughts drifted elsewhere.

The competition.

It was almost here.

Tomorrow.

D-Day.

The realization sent a cold shiver down my spine.

I wondered....Who would I be given to?

The thought felt wrong.

Like I was an object to be claimed.

Won.

Displayed.

Would it be Adrien?

Darren?

Someone else entirely?

And where did Noah stand in all this?

Would he even compete?

Or would he step back?

Would he quit?